Behind these Eyes
by FaithHopeLove
Summary: I'd be you. A postep for 'Rage'
1. One

AN: Post-ep for 'Rage'. I'll say it right now. Someone give Chris Meloni a damn Emmy already!

Disclaimer: I wish they were mine. But they're Dick Wolf's. Sucks to be me.

Spoilers: Mention of Elliot's conversation with Cragen about Maureen in 'Shaken'. And, of course,for 'Rage'

* * *

It took a minute for it to sink in; what I had done in the locker room. I've never experienced that kind of rage before…well, at least nothing that drastic. I've definitely thrown punches at more than my share of perpetrators, but never as extended as it was when I took it out on those lockers.

In my mind, it was Gordon Rickett, yes. The bastard deserves to die, and then to burn in hell. I'd like nothing more than to beat the crap out of him. I confess it; I want to kill him. If they offered me the chance to inject the needle into his arm that he so richly deserves, I would do it. Gladly.

What I hated most, though, was the fact that even though as I looked in that mirror and saw Gordon Rickett, I also saw a small part of myself in him. My rage is uncontrollable these days. I don't know where it comes from…it's just there, and it's targeted at the bastards who would dare to do such horrible, perverted crap to people.

"I'd be you…" 

I still don't know why I said that. Take away everything that makes me…except the rage, and yes; I'd be him, although I doubt I could ever raise a hand to a child. Then again, there was that one time with Maureen, which still haunts me. Somedays I can't help but wonder what truly lies deep down in my soul. If it weren't for the fact that I work for the NYPD…where would I be? What would I be?

So, yes, when I reached out to punch the lockers I saw two things; Gordon, and the part of me that is just like him.

But I also saw a third thing.

Myself.

I hate myself, and everything I've turned into since Kathy walked out the door. And I know that that's a sin, so may God have mercy on me.

I'll probably need it.

Because as wrong as I know it is, I hate myself.

I hate myself for not nailing the bastard's ass fourteen years ago. I'd been so young, so sure that I was right. I have no doubt that he did it then and now. But I hadn't handled it right. I'd been arrogant, an idiot, an ass. And I didn't pay for it; the children he raped, tortured and killed did. And so did their parents.

There's another field I can hate myself in. Having children, and then not having the time to give them half the love and attention they deserve. My children were what kept me sane; without seeing them…why does it matter?

Here's another sin I can confess; I want to die, because without them, my life is meaningless. I wasn't there for my children as they grew up. It's not that I didn't want to be as much as I had to support them. But I couldn't be there. They deserve so much more than they get from me. If they do hate me, their hate is by all means justified. The pain they're going through with the separation is completely my fault. I didn't love Kathy, their mother, half as much as she deserved. She's put up with more nights alone, more "I'll be home soon"'s, more pain, and more lack of communication then is fair to anyone. She's a saint for having hanged on as long as she did.

I hate myself for not being a better husband. When I first noticed that Kathy and I were growing apart, I should have instantly told her that she came first. I should have been willing to give up SVU, or at least to let her in to a small amount of my life. I should have done those little things that I had done when we were dating; the roses, the dancing in the kitchen. But I didn't. And now we, our children, and all the people we know and love, are dealing with the pain of my idiocy.

Without my family…nothing else matters.

I hate everything within me now that they're not at the house we'd called home for twenty years.

There's blood on my knuckles to prove it.

I can't take sitting here and thinking like this anymore.

I need to see my children.

I've sat here for long enough thinking of why I want to die.

I need to remember why- and how- to live.

* * *

I know, I know, that was short. 

Who wants a second chapter? Anyone? Tell me via the review!


	2. Two

AN: Well, here it is!

Note to garrettelliot: you make me quiver!

Thanks for the reviews, y'all, you guys are the best! Note from the start, this has Stabler-Catholicism included. One of these days I'm gonna write Stabler without Catholicism involved. One day. But not today. And probably not tomorrow, either!

* * *

Elliot sat on the couch in his apartment late Sunday night. He had dropped the kids back off at their mother's a couple hours ago. It had been a good weekend, and he felt ready to face the horrors of his job again.

It was for his children.

He would do anything for them.

Elliot smiled as he thought of his children.

Maureen; his eldest, his first-born. She'd always be his baby. Kathleen…it seemed like it was last year that she was twelve; now she was a senior in high school. And then there were the twins…they were still so innocent. He wished he could keep them that way forever.

Maureen had came to mass with him and her siblings earlier that day. She'd been carrying linguistics homework, and told him that she had a project due the next day in Psychology; taking the family name and seeing how it fit everyone.

Elliot smiled as he remembered Elizabeth asking what their name meant. _Stabler. Stable. Able to stand._

Did it fit him? No. Would he let his children know that? Would he let anyone know that? Again, no. To the world, he would force himself to be what he wasn't.

Self-hatred filled him again. He sighed, knowing what he had to do.

* * *

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession." Elliot sighed out the standard comment, preferring face-to-face confession to the confessional.

"What is this sin, my child?"

"I am feeling…self-hatred. I want to die. I feel tempted to kill some of the suspects I work with. I feel…like I'm too close to becoming one of the worst criminals in this city."

"But you don't break the law; you uphold it." Father Daniel offered.

"Yeah, but that doesn't cover upholding the perverts I arrest against walls in my moments of rage."

"Have you tried praying?"

"I don't see myself as worthy enough to take this one to God," Elliot said, honestly. "I feel like nothing; why should God care about nothing?"

"God doesn't regard something he created as nothing. Go pray, Elliot. And then if you still feel self-hatred, come back here."

* * *

Elliot pushed up the kneeler, and stood when he was finished praying. He'd forgotten the peace that prayer had always given him.

_Stable…Stabler…able to stand._

Coincidence?

Maybe.

But he'd never believed in coincidences.

* * *

AN: Aaaaand that's my post-ep for 'Rage'. Please review. Thanks! 


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